


Save a horse, ride a centaur

by Jack_Of_Harts



Category: Original Work
Genre: Anal Sex, Centaurs, Horse Jokes, Inspired by Dungeons & Dragons, Interspecies Sex, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Riding, Rutting, Size Difference, Teratophilia, and other things, does this count as bestiality if it's a centaur?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-04
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:21:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26812822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jack_Of_Harts/pseuds/Jack_Of_Harts
Summary: It's spring, and the body has urges that are hard to satisfy alone. It's always good to have a friend willing to lend a helping hand.
Relationships: Original Male Character/Original Male Character
Comments: 3
Kudos: 48





	Save a horse, ride a centaur

The frostbitten northern village they’d found themselves in had an equally frostbitten name. Galenook or Shivervein, something like that. Velas wasn’t sure and he didn’t much care. It was _far_ too cold here for his liking; he wore his cloak and boots to bed to keep more heat against his scales where it belonged. And yet, here he huddled on a seat at a table outside the tavern, tail curled miserably round his feet. The reason why sat - well, lay, really - at the space opposite him across the table. 

Retlok, his travelling companion of the last few years. A massive dapple-grey centaur from the Grass Seas far to the south. His bulk was hard-pressed to fit through many doors, including the rickety old tavern door behind them. Together they made an effective mercenary duo of brute force, outcasts in a sea of human and elven faces. 

And that was why they were here, looking for any jobs in the area that required a solid amount of muscle while the end of Velas’ tail slowly succumbed to frostbite. He flicked it irritably against the snow and frozen soil and drew the furred rim of his cloak closer around his shoulders with one clawed hand, the other gripping his tankard of piss-weak drink tighter. Across the table, Retlok fidgeted with the remains of his lunch, and he kept looking around whenever he heard footsteps. Sitting outside a tavern in a village that might well be perched at the end of the known world, there were a lot of footsteps as people came and went. 

Velas looked over the rim of his tankard at his travelling companion in idle curiosity. The centaur didn’t often let his people’s instinctive nerves take over. When he did there was usually a good reason behind it. So he set his drink down on the wooden table with a decisive _thump_ , which made Retlok jolt out of whatever anxious daydreams were consuming him to stare at him with wide silver-grey eyes. 

“You are bothered by something,” Velas spoke with a deep, resonant voice that sounded like the heart of a mountain. Was it the possibility about bandits tracking them down for revenge over a past job? The dragonkin doubted it. They were at a table provided by a calm, stagnating tavern in an equally calm and stagnating town. The only thing likely to attack them here was sheer boredom between jobs. 

“I… Uh…” Retlok cleared his throat. His human-like face twitched; Velas was still puzzling his ways through the subtle intricacies of facial expressions and he had not the experience to name the look he was currently being given, but if pressed he would liken it to desperation.

And Retlok wasn’t normally the sort to worry about jobs like that. Money and food, yes. Never about a fight. Their funds, then? Velas minded the purse strings. They had enough money for a week’s worth of room and food here if they felt like it. Of course, only Velas paid money for a bed when they stopped in a town, there was usually a stable free for Retlok to turn into a makeshift room or the grateful soul who’d hired them would offer him space in the family barn for a few nights.

“ _Da-a_?” He drawled, and if he had eyebrows he would’ve raised them.

Retlok looked around once more for some imagined threat - how funny that something spooked the massive warrior who just two days ago had turned a _drekker_ into a fine red-brown paste with a stamp of his hooves - and then leaned forwards. Velas couldn’t help glancing around now, caught up in the furtive pall coming from his companion. Aside from the noise of the tavern at his back the area was deserted for now, no-one within hearing distance. No-one approaching them looking for a fight. 

“Y’know how the other day we talked about each other’s cultures…?”

Another “ _Da_ ,” as Velas took another sip of piss-weak mead to warm his bones. Only the heat of his heart-flame was keeping him from shivering. Damned cold.

“And how centaur jennies are only ready to breed at certain times of the year, while dragonkin females can breed at any time…?”

That made Velas stop thinking about the cold. “Mm?” Of all the things to catch Retlok’s attention from their lengthy discussion after the last job, he’d not expected it to be… Breeding cycles. “Why the interest? Thought you were…” Velas tried to think of the right word, but his Trade vocabulary failed him. Instead, he used an annoying gesture he’d picked up from the very man opposite him and rolled one wrist in a lazy circle.

Retlok nodded. “I love my husband with both of my hearts, but I’ve travelled so far away from him.” He broke eye contact and looked down at the table. Sympathy twinged in Velas’ chest. They’d been on the road for several months, slowly working their way northwards from the Grass Sea that Retlok’s nomadic herd - his family - called home. They’d encountered the clan by chance, and Velas had been left quite literally in the dust as Retlok charged onwards to greet his beloved. The two centaurs had collided and reared up so dramatically and _flames inside Retlok was far too tall when he did that_ , but there was no anger in the meeting. Just a fierce hug that would have broken a lesser humanoid’s bones and tears from both centaurs that Velas was thoroughly confused to learn were from happiness, not distress.

Introductions had been made, of course. Serith had a smaller, slighter build than his husband’s draft horse size, his skin and equine coat an interesting patchwork of deep blacks and white where Retlok was an even silver-grey dapple all over. A polite, nice young man, some kind of healer for the herd. Then Velas had given the two their privacy for the remainder of their stay as he was thrown headfirst into yet another unfamiliar culture.

Many centaurs had never seen one of his ilk before - few had ventured beyond the safety of the Hive - and were fascinated by his clawed digits, his long draconic face, his sweeping horns, his scales the colour of dying blood. The young ones hadn’t even seen a creature with less than four legs and questioned him endlessly about how he could stay balanced for so long. 

In turn, he’d been fascinated by centaur culture. They were nomadic - was it because of their half-horse nature and instincts, or because of the vast grassland plains they called home where permanent resources were scarce? The clan was led by a council of elder females, which Velas found a confusing sort of comfort in. Not one Queen, but many. Which one gave the orders, decided on the daily tasks? Unfortunately, he didn’t get the chance to exchange more than formalities with any of the matriarchs before the clan needed to move eastwards on their eternal migration routes, and the two of them ever northwards. While he’d been glad to escape the curious gazes when he and Retlok had parted ways with the clan, even now months later it was clear that Serith’s absence weighed heavily on his friend.

“You... Miss him?” Velas asked, unable to stop himself from bobbing his head as he tried to figure out the connection between the two statements. Retlok’s sudden interest in breeding cycles and being so far from his husband… There was something missing. Frustrated, the spearhead tip of his tail thumped against the ground. _By the Great Flame’s ashes_. He wasn’t sure if he would _ever_ understand non-dragonkin. With no Queen’s orders to follow and mobile flat faces, they weaved such tangled webs of emotion, speech and unspoken half-truths.

“In a way, yes.”

Velas sighed deeply through his nose and watched the steam spiral away into the air. His patience with these language games was wearing thin.

“Enough, Retlok,” he rolled his companion’s name on his tongue as if it had been made for his heavy accent. The swell of the ‘R’, the click and snap of the ‘tlok’ felt good like prime meat between his sharp teeth. “Speak plain. What. Is. Wrong?” As he spoke, he leaned forwards. He clutched his cloak around his shoulders with one hand, the other clinging grimly to the tankard.

Retlok looked around one final time for eavesdroppers or imagined assassins and then his whole frame sagged in defeat.

“I’m… It’s-” He stammered. 

The dregs in Velas’ tankard called to him. He drained it as he waited for Retlok to find his words, eyed the depths of the now-empty tankard and stood with a heavy sigh. 

“Wha- Where are you going?” Retlok demanded.

“More drink. Will give you time to think,” Velas answered over one shoulder as he trudged up the creaking wooden steps. He froze with his hand on the door and huffed another guttural cloud of steam. “ _Smeshnoy_. Rhymed! Put in your little book of poetry, _da_?”

“Sure…” He heard from behind him as he stepped into the warmth of the tavern - ducking his head so his horns wouldn’t catch on the doorframe on the way in. He’d made that mistake once during an early trip away from the Hive and into civilisation, wound up flat on his back in front of half a town hall. Never again.

When he returned with two tankards that were more suited to their larger frames, Velas was glad to see that Retlok looked calmer, no longer on alert.

“Drink.” Velas set the centaur’s foul-smelling beer down in front of him.

“Thanks, Vel.”

Right as Velas settled and took his first sip of the new drink, there was a hesitant “Velas?” 

“ _Da?_ ”

Retlok stared at him, broad hands gripping his beer so tight his knuckles were turning white. The words came out in a rush. “Y’know I’m not interested in jennies, but my body still pays attention to the breeding cycles and I think I’m going into rut.”

Velas held his next mouthful of drink in his mouth as he processed the information. Retlok was going into rut, falling under the sway of his baser urges to breed. And they were many months’ travel away from his clan, his husband. In fact, this far north, centaurs were as rare a sight as a dragonkin. Velas swallowed.

“This is something you cannot ignore?” 

Retlok shook his head, expression once more becoming one of sorrow that looked so out of place. 

“No, no. It’s maddening. Ignoring it is a fool’s choice.” His cropped tail swished to show his agitation. “Every sense is overwhelmed until the rut is all I can think about.”

Velas tapped out a rhythm on the tabletop as he thought about the options a rutting centaur might have for release.

“What about whorehouse? You might be popular there.”

The look Retlok gave him was one of… Surprise? No, anger? Disgust? That was it.

“No! I can’t pay a stranger I’ll never see again to do this with. I need to be with Serith for this.”

“But your clan is hundreds of miles south.”

“I _know_.” Retlok whined as he let his torso slump forwards onto the table in a show of remarkable flexibility, hiding his pink-tinged face against the rough wood.

Velas looked back as he heard the tavern door creak open behind him, and watched a few patrons stumble out into the bitter afternoon. They stared openly at the two large non-humans seated outside, and Velas responded by flicking his tongue in their direction as if tasting the air. Their eyes widened and they hurried away through the snow as Velas gave them a wave.

Refocusing on Retlok, he saw that the centaur was still hiding his face. What to do… If he was so against paying strangers for relief and his husband was too far away, what other options were there? The way Velas saw it, there were only two. Let Retlok suffer through his rut alone, or do something very, very foolish. But there was one key thing he had to know first.

“How long will rut last?”

Retlok lifted his head off the table just enough to look up at his travelling companion through the long grey-white strands of his hair.

“A week, give or take. I can just... Stay here and pay for my room in the stables while you do some of those smaller jobs ‘round town.”

A mental image of Retlok in self-imposed isolation in a horse stable, despondent and frustrated in equal measure, flashed through Velas’ mind.

“Alone, will rut be difficult?”

“Very,” The answer wasn’t more than a sigh. Retlok seemed to be getting more upset by the minute, even Velas could tell. “I don’t _want_ to be alone. It’s torture, Vel. My whole body’s screaming out to find someone, anything to mount and breed like the stallion I am, and I _hate_ it. I should be more in control of myself than that. I’m not some randy beast.”

“Is instinct, _da_? You cannot help it.” Velas shrugged, another gesture he’d picked up from the world outside the Hive, and he pushed Retlok’s beer closer. “Drink up. Cost three silver.”

Retlok finally straightened himself up and did as suggested, downing it. Velas was more conservative with his own drink, taking measured sips as he mulled things over. From what he’d seen with Retlok, centaurs were surprisingly flexible creatures, and Velas had seen many foes pay the ultimate price for underestimating that in battle. But he doubted that Retlok would be flexible enough to… relieve his needs manually if he refused a stranger’s help. He doubted Retlok would even be in this situation if he was that flexible.

“I don’t know what to do, Velas.”

Velas set his drink down and stared across the table at Retlok’s miserable, broad equine face. Oh, he couldn’t put up with that face for the next week as hormones ran riot through the centaur. And so, he made his decision.

“I have idea you may hate,” he began ever so carefully.

Retlok scoffed, and pushed the flyaway hair strands back behind his pointed ears. “Try me. I don’t know how this could get any worse.”

Oh, Velas knew a way. “I will see you through rut.”

The silence was immediate, heavy and very uncomfortable. Velas met Retlok’s stare, waiting for the centaur’s response.

“Oh, you’re serious.” Retlok realised.

“Do I look like jokester to you?”

“I think it’s joker- no, that’s beside the point!” Retlok shook his head, silver hair shaking wildly all down his back. “You’re my _friend_ , Velas! We’ve been travelling together for over two years now, I can’t- _we_ can’t ruin this!”

“Ruin how?” Velas retorted with a flick of his tail that sliced through a nearby snowdrift. “Am I not next best person for you? We know each other well, not strangers.” 

That made Retlok falter, and he lifted up one feathered hoof as if he was about to get up and leave. “I… I thought you weren’t interested in the whole sex thing?”

“ _Da_. Is messy, sweaty work. Back in Hive, too many males. Females were spoilt. Males were bossy. Queen… Is Queen. You are you.” Velas downed the rest of his drink, and so missed Retlok’s relieved look as he sighed through his horse-like nose. 

“Are you sure? I mean, I’m not exactly small. In any way.”

Velas glanced up and down Retlok’s draft horse-sized lower body. “Would not offer if I was not sure. Not small either.” He gestured down to himself. He was a Queen’s Emissary, literally born for the duty. At seven foot tall, he was larger than most of his kin from the Hive, and it turned out many of the humanoid races - aside from the likes of centaurs or giantkind. If he could handle himself on the battlefield with just a broadsword and flames called forth from his heart fire, he was fairly certain that he could handle a rutting centaur.

Retlok still looked uncertain, and _that_ was an expression that Velas knew well on his friend’s face.

“Trust me, Retlok. I trust you.”

“Only if you’re sure of it. I’m not sure if I’ll be able to hold back once we start.”

“I am,” Velas confirmed. “When shall we start?”

That made Retlok flash the whites of his eyes, and he gave a rather unfitting squeak of a response. “Whenever you want, really. Tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow.” Velas nodded, and then steered the conversation back to subjects that Retlok was comfortable with. While they talked, Velas was already plotting what he could do to aid his friend through the rough week ahead.

~~~~

Morning dawned far too bright, far too cold. Velas grumbled his way through a quick breakfast and made a trip to the general goods store. First item on the list was warmer boots. When he returned to the tavern, new boots on his feet and other items tucked out of sight within his bag, Retlok had not yet emerged from the stables at the tavern’s rear. 

Glad of the time, Velas hurried back up to his room, upended his bag so the new purchases spilled out across his bed amongst his personal belongings as if they’d always been there. He stared at them, took a deep breath in as reality settled heavy on his shoulders, and began his self-appointed tasks.

Retlok shifted to and fro as he dozed in the pale morning sunlight, pleading with his own body for a little while longer. But his needs could not be denied. With a resigned huff, he affixed his caparison to his lower half and made sure it covered the important parts. His hooves dragged along the frozen ground as he plodded round the side of the tavern, his long hair fell in wild waves down his back, lanced through with straw. He didn’t have the heart to do more than gather the unruly mess into an updo to keep it out of the way of his face. There were dark circles under his eyes, he could feel them. Sleep had been fleeting. The rut had taunted him through the night. His blood sang for companionship, and his memories were full of himself and Serith spending the rut together, first as hesitant, fumbling young lovers exploring a vast new territory together, and then as devoted husbands who knew every inch of each other’s body. The need was an itch under his skin that he couldn’t hope to scratch.

As he rounded the corner of the building, Velas stood next to what had become _their_ table, a steaming bowl of porridge in his hands.

“Sleep well?” Velas called.

“Not really,” Retlok lowered himself to the ground next to the table, and to his surprise Velas set the bowl down in front of him, followed by a spoon. Had he already eaten? Velas’ long, reptilian face gave no secrets away, but Retlok tucked into the hot meal as a light dusting of snow began to drift groundwards. He needed the warmth, the energy, for the rut ahead. Even now, he could feel a twitching in his flanks that rippled down to his loins, and it was all he could do to focus on the here and now. 

They sat in silence until he finished eating. An unspoken tension hung in the biting air and danced between the feathered snowflakes. With the bowl scraped clean, Retlok didn’t have any more excuses. He cleared his throat, and looked over at the dragonkin that, oddly, still stood. Velas was dressed as if he was ready to leave town, bag secured over one shoulder and steam misting from the thin slits of his nostrils. His tail flicked from side to side like a cat’s.

“So… Shall we be off?” Retlok asked.

“You have your things?”

Retlok glanced down at himself. His caparison covered him in case his self-control failed in public, his longbow and quiver at his back in case of attack. The small leather pouch around his waist that he never removed, full of memories of his home. To say that he travelled light was an understatement, but the few other things he owned were safely tucked away in his rented stall.

“Yes. You?” 

The dragonkin was dressed not in his armour, but casual clothes under his heavy cloak, and his broadsword was nowhere to be seen. Velas patted his bag. “All that I need.”

Unable to change course from the inevitable, Retlok heaved himself to his hooves and on an unspoken understanding the two men walked along the snow-covered road that led out of town. There was no way they could do this within sight or sound of anyone who might hire them for a job. The very thought of it made Retlok want to die inside. The silence fell over them again, aside from the sounds of snow crunching underfoot. Retlok was focused on ignoring the persistent itch and ache of hormones, while Velas beside him mused over whatever hidden things he mused over.

In fact, the silence gave Velas time to think and distract himself from the internal aches he now felt. This arrangement between them, there was something oddly formal about it. Like a merchant contract. Terms had been arranged, all that was left was to fulfil it. And yet, it was as if today was any other day. Oh, time would tell if that normality would remain between them.

A few hours passed. The snowfall thickened, thinned and mercifully stopped altogether. Some miles away from town that was now hidden behind a series of hills, they veered off the road into a thick copse of trees. The more privacy the better, however this would happen.

The only sounds in the copse were the alarm calls of birds overhead, the two’s deep breathing, and the regular sound of twigs cracking under one of Retlok’s heavy hooves. He’d never been much of a stealthy one, Velas reflected. 

“Here?” He occasionally broke the silence to ask the centaur, pointing to a potentially comfortable spot. Retlok would stop to survey the area, but inevitably would shake his head and they continued further in. Sunlight broke through the winter clouds to glint through the bare winter branches. With the quiet, it was peaceful here. Velas studied Retlok from the corner of his eye. The centaur fidgeted as he walked, but he seemed calm enough. 

Eventually the massive centaur slowed to a halt. They’d reached the edge of a small clearing made by a fallen tree. Young saplings raced for the light-filled canopy above, while moss and ivy carpeted much of the ground. The fallen tree itself had been worn smooth by the passage of time, but was not yet softened and crumbling away through rot.

“Here looks good,” Retlok announced, although Velas had already guessed. “So… How shall we do this?” He radiated nerves, Velas didn’t need to look up at his face to tell.

Velas met his friend’s gaze. He was no stranger to being sized up. However, he was a stranger to how centaurs mated with a bipedal partner. Those four legs looked like they would get in the way… Besides, if he was rutting, that meant Retlok would want to fuck rather than be fucked, surely?

“How do you normally do it?” He countered.

Retlok minced his hooves like a show pony on display; so at odds with his massive equine bulk.

“We, uh, mount our partners. Serith and I would take turns,” Retlok’s cheeks were turning pink again as he described it. “But I don’t think I’d be able to mount you.”

Velas nodded in agreement. That sounded like a quick way to break his spine, or a collarbone, or something else important. On his hands and knees, he could probably fit under Retlok’s barrel, but those legs were tall. He tapped his scaled chin in thought as he tried to visualise how a centaur and a humanoid could possibly work together. Against a wall? Retlok sitting down? Or lying on his back? Then his eyes fell on the fallen tree. That looked like it was a suitable height…

“We could try? If I lie on tree, and you stand over me?”

“Another rhyme.” Retlok muttered as he approached the log and stood alongside it. His human torso bent and curved to better study the height and thickness of the log compared to his barrel. “Vel, c’mere? I can’t tell if there’d be room for you.”

Velas set his bag down and did as instructed. He sat on the end of the log and lay back to stare up at the sky and tree canopy, legs and tail dangling off the end of the log. The wood and moss was cold against his back, but he could bear it. Retlok appeared in his field of view, and Velas heard the shuffling of hooves and more twigs cracking. Then he shrank back against the log as Retlok reared up - _to tall too tall what if he steps on my head he could cave my skull in with one hoof is this what every goblin sees right before it dies_ \- and his hooves came down gingerly a foot or so above Velas’ shoulders, slipping against the wet patches of moss until they found purchase. All Velas could see now was the massive grey curve of the centaur’s underbelly.

“Are you alive?” Came Retlok’s voice.

“ _Da_. I live.”

Velas couldn’t see the centaur’s face from this position under him, so he could only guess at his reaction. He sniffed, and realised that this close to the underside of Retlok’s chest, all he could smell was the earthy, dusty smell of horse he associated more with Retlok than an actual horse. He’d never cared much about how Retlok smelled unless he reeked of sweat and blood after too long on the road. There was the undertone of sweat to the smell now, he noticed, but it wasn’t overpowering. It was almost… reassuring in it’s familiarity. It was Retlok.

He glanced down along his friend’s body, and though it was a little cramped lower down where his knees almost brushed Retlok’s tilted underbelly there did indeed seem to be enough space to allow sex. His gaze, naturally, drifted onwards, at something else that had been hidden under Retlok’s caparison and was now directly in his line of sight.

Velas was a polite man, and he was certainly not one who snuck glances at the centaur’s natural lack of modesty. All Retlok had to cover his… Parts was his tail, and even that was kept short out of necessity for life on the road and on the battlefield. A lone centaur struggled to keep a long tail neat.

Now, positioned under him, Velas could see how the dark grey fur darkened to near-black in the shadows between Retlok’s haunches and then gave way to bare skin, the silken folds of what could only be his sheath. Retlok wasn’t aroused yet, but Velas knew that would change soon. Very soon, he amended as he remembered the first part of his plan. He shuffled forwards on the log until his booted feet touched the forest floor. Now his head was just before the lowest point of Retlok’s barrel, and he couldn’t help but exhale over the sensitive fur and flesh. He saw it ripple as Retlok flinched above him, and tipped his head back to see the centaur’s human torso bend forwards to stare upside-down at him through his extended front legs.

“What are you doing?”

“Foreplay,” Velas hopped off the log to kneel in front of Retlok’s sheath. He started off with gentle touches, minding his talons. The skin felt like silk against his fingertips, and he slowly expanded his touches to include the black testicles that hung behind them. So unlike a dragonkin’s vent, which was covered by smooth, cool scales to keep everything inside protected. Retlok radiated such _warmth_. 

With an embarrassed “Oh,” the centaur above him shifted his weight, there was a slight twitch in his hips and then his mottled black-pink cock began to drop. It was soft and drooped, but as Velas began to touch and explore it the shaft bobbed and gradually grew in both length and thickness until the veins showed on a shaft that looked to be as thick around as his wrist. He couldn’t help but study the unfamiliar form. Long, with a strange thick ring halfway down the shaft that terminated with a flat, slanted cockhead that glistened in the light. It twitched slightly in his grasp, eager for more stimulation. When he gathered some of the clear fluid that leaked from the tip onto a fingertip, Retlok groaned low and deep. Good.

Unseen, Velas licked the clear fluid off his finger. Salty and bitter, but tolerable. He leaned forwards and flicked his forked tongue against Retlok’s slit. That got him a shuddering, bestial snort that trailed off into another low groan.

“Oh, Vel-” Retlok stamped a back hoof against the ground, which set his cock swaying at the movement. Velas continued exploring this new part of Retlok. His taste was overpoweringly earthy, something raw and solidly masculine. _Very_ solid. He held the middle section of the shaft to keep it steady. His cockhead was warm and spongy against his tongue, and Velas took care to give attention to every part of that pendulous shaft until he neared the black wrinkled skin of the sheath. 

Gasps and groans met his ears as he worked his way back down to the tip, working hard to ensure that every inch of Retlok’s firming erection was coated in saliva. He couldn’t lie to himself - the sights, smells and sounds that flooded him from all angles were making him aroused in turn. He could feel his genital slit parting to allow his growing cock out. He reached up and cupped the centaur’s testicles. Only one of the warm orbs within could fit in his palm at a time, and he fondled them with no small amount of curiosity. Surely it was safer and warmer to keep them inside the body. Why did centaurs - and presumably other humanoids - have theirs on the outside where they were more vulnerable? He would have to ask later. The centaur above him was in no state to answer those kinds of questions as he whimpered and snorted his growing pleasure. Velas licked again at the centaur’s flat tip, and noticed how the cockhead had flared out, developing a slight ridge that ran around the edge. The precum was slick as he swallowed it.

“Enjoying this?” He asked.

“Yessss,” came an answering groan from above. “Whatever you’re doing, keep doing it. Please, Vel, can you-?” Retlok interrupted himself with a sharp gasp as Velas worked his tongue again, correctly guessing at what was asked of him. His own cock throbbed, demanding attention of its own. He struggled with his belt and trousers for a few seconds. Then his half-hard cock was freed into the cold air. He grunted his displeasure, smoke puffing from his nostrils, and then let go of Retlok’s cock. As he got back onto the log, Retlok was bent forward to watch him again, eyes wide and face flushed with pleasure. Without a word, the centaur reared again and moved back from the log so all four hooves were back on the ground. Velas sat up, confused, until he felt hands trail over his wanting cock in turn, and then start gently pulling his trousers down. He lifted his hips off the log to help, and did his best not to shiver as his lower half was exposed to the chill air. 

“You need to be ready for me,” Retlok explained as his front legs folded and he settled down in front of Velas’ parted thighs.

“There is oil in the bag, but…” Velas began to explain as he sat up and finished kicking his trousers off, but Retlok had already turned to search through his bag. He watched the centaur in amusement, tail flicking against the weathered side of the tree, and decided to let him find out for himself. Soon enough the centaur turned back, glass bottle of oil in one hand. He uncorked the vial with one hand and slicked the first two fingers of the other hand in one practiced motion.

“You have done this before?” Velas asked, thighs parting a little wider in anticipation. Retlok looked up at him and gave a coy shrug.

“More or less. It never hurts to be careful, take things slow.”

“Not in rut?”

Retlok shook his head, and his gaze dropped to Velas’ exposed entrance. He leaned in, oiled fingers trailing around the finely scaled skin that surrounded it before pressing gently against the muscled aperture. Velas let out a soft hiss at the pressure, long snout tilting back to point up at the sky, but there was far less resistance than what Retlok expected. His fingers slipped in carefully, not wanting to rush and risk hurting his companion, but it soon became clear there was no need to worry. Velas was warm and relatively loose around him. How? Retlok could only sit there, baffled even as he sunk his fingers further in and didn’t meet any expected resistance beyond minimal stretching as he scissored his fingers. Velas didn’t show any sign of discomfort, either. Or maybe he was just good at hiding it...

“Vel?”

“Hmm?”

“Have you- Did you prepare yourself for me already?”

Velas met his confused gaze with a tilt of his head, expression unreadable as always. “What would you think if I said yes?”

Retlok stared at him in disbelief. Velas would go through that discomfort in advance for him so there was less time wasted now, when it mattered. The confusion gave way to pleasant surprise. “I’d think… That it was weirdly nice of you?” _And it means more time fucking_. He didn’t say that out loud, though. That was the itch under his skin and the throbbing of his neglected cock getting the better of him.

“You are a friend in need of help,” Velas stated as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Retlok shook his head, glanced down at the oil bottle in his other hand before setting it down somewhere it wouldn’t get trampled underhoof. “So, do you want foreplay?” He asked, even though his blood was up and demanding a wild hormone-driven fuck. Hopefully that would come, as long as he kept himself in check.

As if he sensed the growing tension that welled up inside, Velas shook his head. “ _Net_. Later.”

Relief made Retlok’s shoulders droop even as he got to his feet and resumed his position over Velas on the log, tail held high as his excitement built, unable to help himself from flexing powerful abdominal muscles to thump his cock against his belly; the closest thing male centaurs had to masturbation.

“Ready?”

“ _Da_.” 

“I can’t really see from this angle, so you’ll have to guide me in.”

Velas wriggled and shuffled his way back into position. He studied Retlok’s bobbing cock head-on, noticing how the clear pre-cum flowed and dripped down. Then he glanced up at the warm equine belly that was less than a handspan away from the end of his snout. It would be a cramped ordeal, but he would try his best.

He reached down and grabbed the warm, slick cock. The taste of it still lingered on his tongue, and the heady smell filled his nostrils. It jerked in his hand and he felt an abortive twitch rock through the powerful haunches above him as Retlok fought the instinct to blindly thrust into any warm tight hole he could find, even if it was only a few inches of someone’s hand.

Concentrating, he manipulated the heavy length as much as he could without hurting Retlok, lining it up with the clenching entrance just below the base of his tail. Retlok’s fingers had filled him briefly, the foreign warmth welcome, but he was very glad that he’d decided to prepare himself earlier in the privacy of his room.

When he pressed the flat cockhead against his entrance, he heard a suspiciously equine squeal from somewhere far above him.

“Retlok?” Was he going too fast?

“I’m- Uh, fine. Take as long as you need, Vel. Just tell me when I can thrust, please?” Desperation tinged Retlok’s voice now, and Velas couldn’t blame the poor man. He returned to the task at hand, focusing on relaxing the necessary muscles. The cockhead pressed firmly against his opening for a few painful seconds, far, far wider than Retlok’s fingers had been. For an instant the pain grew to the point where Velas wondered if he should regret agreeing to this- and then it slipped in. His muscles drew tight around the top of the shaft once the flared head was inside; Velas tipped his head back against the log to give a strained groan of pain-pleasure as he felt his insides stretch around the bulky intrusion.

“Gods, Vel… You’re so _hot_ inside. So tight…”

Velas breathed through his nose as he let his body adjust; Retlok was certainly wider than he had anticipated, but he could manage. He waited as long as he could for his insides to adjust, but the tension that radiated from Retlok’s body urged him on. He propped himself up on one elbow and began to ease the next few inches of cock inside. Quickly, he found that something was off.

While the initial pain of being stretched faded, it was replaced by a new ache slightly further in that was _just_ sharp enough to be uncomfortable. Velas stopped and stared down at where Retlok’s cock entered him.

The pause didn’t go unnoticed. “Vel, can I thrust yet? You can tease me all you want later.”

“No, not yet!” He answered. “Give me moment,” He refocused on the ache, trying to pinpoint exactly where it was in relation to how much of Retlok was inside him. If he was right, the ache seemed to be where the flared ridge of his cockhead lay. With his free hand he reached down and tentatively pressed down on his abdomen at the uncomfortable spot. The ache increased and Retlok grunted above him.

That confirmed it, then. When Velas pulled himself off the centaur’s length he watched as it bobbed about unaided. It was so flushed and hard now that it was only a few inches away from the centaur’s belly, which was angled sharply upwards thanks to his extended forelegs, while his own body lay flat against the log…

“What’s wrong?” Retlok asked as Velas wriggled out from under him. “Have you changed your mind?”

“No, no,” Velas reassured him as he walked up alongside the log so he could see Retlok’s face again. “Fear not friends. The… The _ugol_ , the angle, angles, are wrong. Would hurt us both if we tried this way.”

Retlok bent at the waist to stare upside-down through his forelegs, and he realised the same problem with a disappointed “Oh.” He straightened up and frowned down at Velas. “What can we do?”

Velas shrugged. “Another position? Or… I use mouth and hands instead?”

Retlok considered the options. As much as he had enjoyed the feeling of Velas’ tongue ghosting over his shaft, he couldn’t help but think of the fanged maw that tongue was part of, or Velas’ sharp black talons being anywhere near his genitals, and wince. He shook his head. “Another position would be good.”

“Then get off log. Unnecessary.”

Velas stepped out of range of any potential injuries as Relok reared up again. His forehooves thumped back to solid ground, which set his heavy cock swaying in a way that looked frustrating.

There was a moment’s silence where they looked at each other and figured out the next step. Retlok was the first one to brighten with an idea. He looked over his shoulder at the rest of the moss-covered clearing. He backed up to a patch of ground that had been further softened by a layer of pine needles, and then folded his legs under him to lie down. Velas stood there, half-naked and confused. How could they ease Retlok’s urges if his cock was so inaccessible? Then Retlok did something Velas wasn’t expecting.

With a surprising amount of grace he rolled onto his back, legs pedalling in the air as he wriggled until he was comfortable, which sent his erection flopping from side to side across his belly. The sight was so odd that Velas forgot the circumstances and laughed. Above them, another startled bird took flight.

Retlok frowned up at him. “If you have any better suggestions, I’d love to hear them!”

Velas shook his head, hands raised placatingly as he moved closer - another strange gesture he’d picked up during life outside the Hive. It worked, because Retlok’s frown eased into a pout as he propped himself up on his elbows.

“No, no, was surprise. This will work.” Velas could see now; he would have to straddle the centaur’s underside. His cock lay flushed and glistening against his belly, trailing precum over his grey fur, but it looked like it would be easier to move this way. Velas felt his own cock stiffen further as he stared for a few long seconds.

He approached Retlok with deliberate slowness, meeting his gaze evenly until he reached his side. He didn’t have to reach down far to trail his fingertips down the dapple-grey fur of Retlok’s barrel, through the slick mess of precum. The effect was immediate; Retlok grunted in pleasure and one hind leg twitched in the air, long feathering whipping back and forth. Velas moved down to his hindquarters - mindful of the muscled leg so close to his head - and caressed the heavy, slick cock. He heard a low sigh of pleasure from the centaur’s other end, and wondered how, if at all, centaurs masturbated when their hands were so far away from their genitals? Even with such flexibility, it had to be a difficult task. Another thing to ask later. There were far more… Important things to focus on now.

The dusty smell of horse came back as he leaned over, draping himself sideways over Retlok’s broad stomach to bring the cock to his mouth and lick, reapplying a heavy layer of saliva where the viscous precum hadn’t reached. Fully hard, it was easily as long as his forearm. His entrance clenched at the memory of being filled by the first few inches of that massive cock. Soon, very soon, far more of it would be inside him. Excitement prickled at the base of his tail. 

He grabbed the discarded oil vial, and with a quick apology for how cold it would be he covered first one and then both hands and slicked Retlok’s cock from the head all the way down to the base of the shaft. Doubtful that he’d manage to fit all of the massive length inside of him, but better safe than sorry.

On that thought he stood and swung one leg over to straddle Retlok’s belly, facing up his body.

He could count on one hand the number of times he’d ridden Retlok. Centaurs didn’t take kindly to being treated like animals or beasts of burden. Those few times it had always been in the heat of a fight going badly wrong; Retlok thundering towards him and in one disorientating moment picking him up to deposit him hard on his back. A gruff warning to hold on as his equine strength translated into raw power, carrying them both to safety. Velas had been able to feel the stretch and bunch of every muscle through his thighs and calves where they were stretched around Retlok’s girth and where he clung grimly to his human torso, able to feel each harsh breath swell.

Here and now there was no threat to them as he rode Retlok - in a rather unusual way. He could still feel every shift of the muscles and each deep, measured breath. His thighs ached from the strain as he spread them as much as he could over Retlok’s wide-set build, and he was glad he was taller than many other humanoid races. On a whim, he reached out and gently ruffled the grey fur in front of him. It was Retlok’s turn to laugh.

“Ah, what is the Trade word, _shchekotlivyy…_ Ticklish? You are ticklish?”

Retlok’s head popped into view between his forelegs. “Ticklish, yes. Wouldn’t you be, if someone scratched _your_ belly?”

“ _Da_ ,” the word was an exhalation of steam that wisped away on the air.

Velas looked back at the large cock that lay just behind him, and gripped one of Retlok’s hind legs for support as he pulled himself up. He took hold of the slick cock with his other hand and guided it to his waiting entrance. 

Like before, the flat, slightly bell-shaped head pressed hard against him for a few seconds until he eased it in. Retlok groaned beneath him, and Velas closed his eyes against the ache of being stretched again. He adjusted his grip on Retlok’s leg and began to descend carefully. The last thing either of them needed was for him to lose his balance and end up impaled on a whole centaur cock in one go. He grimaced at the thought.

“Velas, are you alright?”

He opened his eyes to see Retlok watching him in obvious worry, and realised what he must look like. He nodded and stopped gritting his teeth.

“Fine, fine. Unpleasant thought. Not hurt.” If it were physically possible, he would have smiled to reassure his friend. Retlok smiled a lot when he was happy. Right now, staring back at him, Velas felt happy too.

His eyes slid closed again as inch by slow, careful inch he let Retlok slide into his body aided by gravity. His cock throbbed, and he idly stroked it to let the pleasure take the edge off the pain of being stretched a little further than he’d prepared for. Oh, he hadn’t been filled like this in quite some time. The cock throbbed hot and ready inside him, pushing against his internal walls as it worked deeper. 

He groaned as the cockhead grazed against a certain spot that made his tail flick and curl with the pleasure that spiked in the pit of his stomach. Angling his hips forward to chase the feeling, he tightened his hand round his cock, pre chasing away the dry friction as he began to stroke himself.

Retlok groaned and gasped wordlessly beneath him, legs trembling as he watched Velas sink further down onto his cock. “Shit, Vel…” He managed, staring at the point where his darkly mottled cock entered the dragonkin. This was a strange new position for him, and he fought back the urge to writhe on the forest floor. With Velas pinning his hips down and gripping his shaft so tightly, he wasn’t sure if he would be able to thrust his hips the way his hormone-fogged brain demanded. So instead he pressed a shaking hand to his mouth to muffle the worst of his pleasured noises, and continued to stare unashamedly as more and more of his aching cock disappeared into a slick, velvet heat. It was _perfect_.

A breathy grunt left Velas as he felt his passage stretch a little further around the cock - and then clenched down a few seconds later. That must have been the odd ring halfway down Retlok’s shaft. _Oh, Great Flame_. The sensation of fullness was overwhelming. It stole away his breath and he had to stop for a moment, hands braced on Retlok’s belly. His thighs trembled from the stretch of being parted so wide.

“Ah… Alright?” Retlok panted.

Velas could only nod, rocking his hips back and forth gently to feel the pull and push of the length inside him. “How much left?”

Retlok couldn’t tear his gaze away, but he was glad of the small break from the wild pleasure that bubbled through his entire being. “Uh… You’re past the halfway mark.” Maybe another handspan left? Ancestors, was Velas thinking about taking _all_ of him? “I don’t want you to injure yourself. Don’t… Don’t take more than you want to.”

“I know, I know,” Velas sighed a cloud of steam that wreathed over his head and curled around his horns. He sat there for a second, feeling the steady rise and fall of Retlok’s body under his.

“Doing so well,” Retlok muttered, hands gripping tight at the ground so he wouldn’t beg for Velas to keep going before he was ready. “So well.”

Velas’ response was something sluggish in his mother tongue that he didn’t bother translating. The calm hung between them for a moment more, and then Velas nodded once to himself. Breathing evenly, he leaned back, gripped one muscled horse leg and resumed his descent. The sensation of fullness had eased into something more manageable. Good. Retlok was certainly longer than anything he’d taken before. Maybe even thicker. 

With another full-body shiver of pleasure, Velas continued to rock his hips as he eased himself down, stealing a few heady sparks of pleasure. No reason why Retlok could have _all_ the fun. And it made Retlok make all kinds of interesting sounds under him, cock massaged from all sides. Too bad they were muffled by the hand he’d placed over his mouth.

“No-one will hear us out here,” He reminded the centaur, gazing round the deserted forest without truly seeing it.

“Force of habit,” Retlok answered. “Especially with children.”

Velas could only laugh. “Ever caught?” He was surprised to see a blush colour Retlok’s grey face. How much blood did he have to spare?

“Don’t wanna talk about it.”

Velas let another cloud of steam slide through his teeth. He’d find out later. Right now, there was a cock to finish taking. He continued rocking as he slid carefully down and down, groaning to himself. That seemed to encourage Retlok to be a bit louder, the sounds reverberating around the clearing. Soon enough Velas’ agonisingly slow descent came to a halt as the flat cockhead found the curved end of his passage. There was still a few inches left outside the heated embrace of their bodies, but neither man cared.

Velas trembled, eyes firmly closed and blue-grey smoke curling from his parted jaws as he adjusted to the intense feeling of fullness that stole his breath away. Retlok was so deep inside him, deeper than anything he’d ever experienced and he knew he could go no further without risking injury. Damn draft horse. It verged on painful as his confused nerves tried to make sense of the situation. It was _wonderful_. He flicked his tail for balance and kept rocking his hips, causing them both to give voice to the sparks and curls of pleasure the motion gave them.

“Velas, you’re wonderful…” Retlok sighed. His cock twitched and throbbed impatiently in the heated confines of Velas’ body, so much tighter and warmer than Serith. Smaller, too - he could feel the last few inches of his cock that were simply too much for Velas’ body to take. Maybe that was a good thing. Even though his instincts were screaming at him to mount and thrust and breed the tight wet hole he was in, he couldn’t surrender to the fire in his veins. He’d never live with the guilt if he hurt Velas. He gritted his teeth as he lay there, forcing himself to be patient, be gentle. Velas had agreed to help him through the rut, they trusted each other so much with this.

“Bigger than expected,” the dragonkin panted, finally opening his eyes. It was tough to read that inexpressive reptilian face, but Retlok could tell that Velas was handling things well. His hips still made those teasing little rocking motions, working his internal muscles around his cock until Retlok wanted to cry out in frustration.

“Well, I _am_ part horse.”

Velas responded in his own language, and once again didn’t translate it.

“Is it too much?” He asked, wanting to put the last of his worries to rest. He knew that Velas would have told him if it was - already had, in fact. But he wanted to be _certain_ before they truly began. 

“No, is fine.” Velas shook his head to back up the statement. He looked down, flexing his abdominals so Retlok could feel them clench distantly around his cockhead. “Position will give control. I can…” Velas’ gaze drifted up to meet his, and he saw those orange eyes widen in realisation. “I can ride you! Ha!”

Retlok’s groan wasn’t one of pleasure, but defeat, and he flopped back to stare up at the sky as Velas laughed to himself. The way it made his body clench and move around his cock was maddening. “Yes, yes, you can set the pace,” the centaur sighed. “Speaking of, could you maybe…?” He trailed off, too embarrassed to finish the question even with his friend impaled on his cock. Velas must have picked up on the need in his voice, because he stopped laughing.

“ _Da_ , _dorogaya moya_.”

Velas leaned forward, transferring some of his weight onto his hands as he began to lift himself off Retlok’s cock. It was an agonisingly slow process that left them both breathing hard. Velas stopped when he felt the edge of the flaring head catch against the inside of his entrance, not wanting it to slip out. He took a breath, and bore down on it again. Groans seeped out from between his teeth as that hot length throbbed deeper and deeper into him until he reached his body’s limit. He set a slow, rocking pace as he ground down onto Retlok’s equine pelvis again and again. He shifted his weight and angled his hips, keeping control over the angle and depth of the penetration as he searched. Then the pleasure spiked in the depths of his core. Sharp enough to leave him gasping, breathing harder and harder. His tail flicked out and thumped against the centaur’s cocked hind legs, before twining tightly around one as if holding onto a lover. 

Beneath him, Retlok’s barrel heaved and his legs twitched reflexively, acting on the building pleasure however he could in this abnormal position. He wanted to thrust up into that tight heat, but gravity and Velas’ weight worked against him. All he could do was squirm and give voice to his pleasure. _So good, so good._ Hearts thumping wildly, he watched Velas slide up and down his length. The dragonkin’s eyes were closed again, long head sagging back on his neck to point towards the sky as he worked. Movement near where their bodies joined coaxed Retlok’s gaze back in time to see the other man form a fist around his own cock, passively fucking into the hollow with every supple roll of his hips.

A shiver ran down Retlok’s spine at the sight. The breeding heat throbbed through his veins until it made his head buzz, and he groaned and whimpered at the tight clenching heat around him that massaged his cock so wonderfully.

His mind’s eye strayed always back to Serith, turning to welcome memories of past ruts spent together. Awkward and enthusiastic firsts which settled into tender familiarity as the seasons came and went. Their bodies entangled, braced against the heady lust that the rut etched into their bones spring after spring. Shuddering frames and cries of ecstasy, stallions taking turns playing the role of broodmare. Serith bearing his weight for mounting after mounting, only for the roles to reverse and the same man who’d begged and moaned so sweetly under him now snapping their hips together with hushed praise. Legs trembling with ecstasy and exhaustion both, threatening to give way completely if they hadn’t locked their joints. The lulls afterwards and between when the wasted breeding urge spared them, sharing sweet kisses and sweeter words. Falling asleep nestled together in the grass while the stars danced overhead. _Oh, Serith_. His hearts and cock ached at the heady memories. He could only hope that Serith could find some relief from his own rut when they were so far apart…

The present shook away the memories when Velas grunted and increased the pace, starting to truly _ride_ him until they were both panting - him from the exertion of bouncing up and down on a thick, heavy cock that grazed every sensitive spot inside him, and Retlok from the relentless pleasure as he bred the tight velvet heat. _So good, so good, so perfect, fuck, keep going, let me breed you, let me fill you._ He might have thought it. He might have said it between every harsh breath.

“Gods, Vel,” he whined, hands grasping uselessly at the forest floor. He could feel his cock twitching as his flare began to grow, aching for release. He _needed_ to come, to breed something. “I can’t last much longer!”

Velas’ answer was a rough, guttural groan, free hand still stroking his cock in tandem with each downward slide. His thighs tensed and untensed rhythmically as he moved up and down, and Retlok was transfixed by the way light played off his blood-red scales, gilding each one with silver. He followed the gleaming red and silver up his long neck to his tilted head. His mouth hung open, sharp teeth just visible as steam and smoke wiped out into the cold air around them. Retlok could feel the tension in the legs straddling his underbelly and the rippling muscles that worked over his cock until he could feel his flare catching against Velas’ inner walls.

He groaned aloud, knowing that the raging instinct to breed was overtaking his longing to make this pleasure last. He tried to warn Velas, but it was too late. The pleasure reached breaking point, he could feel his balls tightening and-

He climaxed with a bellow that echoed through the clearing, cock spurting into Velas’ heated depths. His tail flagged up and his legs flailed for purchase that wasn’t there as he writhed against the ground. Velas rode him through the waves of primal satisfaction until Retlok’s flare finished swelling and ground against his internal walls as he felt powerful spurts of seed line his insides. Only then did he stop, panting. Retlok gave a final, tired groan, one hind leg twitching autonomously.

Velas shivered against him, able to feel every inch of the spent cock buried deep inside him, and the thick warmth of Retlok’s release that he’d felt pool deep inside him. It was… Odd. As Retlok relaxed under him, Velas sat there figuring out his next move and expecting to feel the spend slide out any second. He waited. Not a single drop ran down his thighs. He leaned forwards, about to pull himself off the softening cock and tend to his own needs when Retlok stopped him.

“Wait, wait-” The centaur was breathless. “This isn’t usually a problem, but given the angles and gravity and everything, uh…”

“What?” Velas tilted his head in confusion. Had Retlok really gone back to his usual shy self when his cock was buried deep in a friend’s ass? _Really_?

“When you get off me, there’ll be a bit of a mess. My flare’s expanded and it’s the only thing keeping it all inside.”

“Like cork,” Velas looked down to where he could feel Retlok inside him. How big a mess would it create? His tail uncoiled from Retlok’s leg to flick up and down as he reconsidered how to do this. “Not sure where nearest river is.”

“And I don’t really want to go back into town in such a mess.”

“What about your dress?”

“It’s _not a dress!_ ”

“Looks like one.”

“It doesn’t! It’s a caparison!”

Velas stuck his forked tongue out, eyes glittering with amusement. “If you said so.”

Retlok scoffed his frustration, but he enjoyed the easy banter and he knew Velas did too. So long spent on the road together meant they had to get along, or they would’ve parted ways long ago. He studied Velas’ position straddled across his hips, thinking about ways to manage separating with as little mess as possible. It wouldn’t be long until his flare began to go down. Good for getting a jenny pregnant, the whole point of the rut, but that wasn’t really something he’d ever needed to worry about. 

“Okay, how about this. If I roll onto my side, you _should_ be able to get off with less mess.”

Velas nodded agreement, and carefully moved with the centaur as he slowly rolled to one side, Retlok taking care not to clip him with a hoof. Aside from a wince as the flare popped free with an obscenely wet noise, Velas managed to extricate himself without any difficulty. He staggered as he got back to his feet, muscles aching, but that was the least of his worries. He could feel cooling cum start to leak out of his now gaping hole and drip down the back of his thighs. _Ugh_. His movements were stiff and careful as he grabbed his bag and moved away out of Retlok’s view to clean himself up.

Retlok politely stared up at the trees around them rather than see what his friend was up to, mind and body foggy with the happy afterglow. He was spent and the overwhelming rutting urge was satisfied for now. He felt… Well, _sane_ was the best way to put it. Sated. Tired. At the same time, he knew that the respite wouldn’t last for long.

A thump and approaching footsteps told him that Velas had returned. Retlok watched the half-naked, half-hard dragonkin pick up his discarded trousers, and felt gratitude well up. Velas had agreed to help him through the rut, and he couldn’t be more grateful for it. The other man was gruff and quiet, but he cared. 

“Vel, c’mere,” he urged, beckoning him over. One hand clutching at his cloak, Velas blinked at him.

“Why?”

“I get cuddly after sex,” Retlok shrugged. “Besides, I’d like to repay the favour somehow.” He couldn’t help another glance down at Velas’ slowly waning arousal, making his intent obvious. It would only be polite, really. Another cloud of steam billowing up skywards when Velas scoffed as if he was truly going to say no to an open invitation. It took some coaxing for him to settle down on top of Retlok’s human torso with the fur cloak arranged to cover them both like a blanket. 

Velas was so warm against him that the ground against Retlok’s back felt freezing by comparison. His scales were bone dry, and he absently recalled how dragonkin apparently couldn’t sweat the way other humanoid races did. Strange, that.

They shared a look, and Velas was the first to break the silence before it became awkward.

“So… How shall we do this?”

Retlok hesitated, looking down at Velas’ prone body. “I’m not sure. I’ve never been with anyone with less than four legs.”

Velas’ gaze softened. “I will help,” he promised with the same gentle tone he’d used yesterday. He reached down, and Retlok felt his hand skim down his chest and to one side. Then it found his hand and guided it between their bodies to his softening cock. Ah, this was something he was slightly familiar with. He gripped it carefully, admiring how the flesh hardened under his tentative fingers as he explored this new frontier. Centaurs weren’t readily built for using their hands or mouths on another male’s cock, so his experiences of this with Serith had been infrequent and far apart. But this was more manageable. Different in so many ways. All of this was.

For one, Velas’ cock was so much smaller and thinner than anything centaur-sized Retlok had handled. Probably not fair to compare them, he reflected with a blush rising to his cheeks. Velas was a vastly different shape and texture to a centaur cock as he blindly felt it. Slick to the touch, and so _warm_ it verged on uncomfortable, like how Velas had felt around him. There were firm, scale-like ridges along the bottom edge of the shaft that seemed to grow stiffer as it grew more erect. The head had a slight ridge to it, and _that_ was a familiar feature.

Velas sighed and shivered against him, but he didn’t speak. The quiet noise of his pleasure was encouragement; if Retlok did something wrong, he knew Velas would be quick to correct him. He continued to explore, running his fingers up the textured shaft. The cockhead was slightly pointed, not flat like a centaur cockhead, but both had a small divot that naturally guided his thumb to what could only be Velas’ slit, judging from the way his hips bucked as he gasped. 

“Enjoying this?”

“ _Da_ ,” Velas’ breath against his shoulder was just as warm as the rest of him. Retlok could feel the prickle of sweat. The cloak was definitely trapping the heat between them.

Retlok moved his hand back down Velas’ length, down to the base of the shaft. He was slightly alarmed to feel his fingers brush against even more slickness. It didn’t feel like precum at all. As he felt around, it felt like there was some kind of ridge around Velas’ cock that contained the slick; his fingers slid over fine scales when he explored.

“What..?”

“Is genital slit.”

“Oh...” Fingers sliding down, Retlok confirmed for himself that there was nothing but smooth, glossy scales underneath Velas’ shaft. “So, everything’s inside?”

“ _Da_.”

“Weird.”

“Yours is.”

Retlok couldn’t think of anything to counter that, so he shook his head and returned his fingers to Velas’ cock. His fingers lingered over those unusual ridges. How would those feel inside a partner? And was it wrong if he wanted to find out? No, that was the rut talking. Sex and everything related to it was the only thing on his mind.

“Tease,” Velas grumbled above him, voice like a stormcloud.

“Sorry, I’m curious.”

“About my cock?”

“Mm. Do all dragonkin have ridges like yours?”

“Females do not.”

Retlok rolled his eyes. “Very funny.”

“Interrogate later.” Velas thrust his hips impatiently, cock gliding through Retlok’s hesitant fingers to grind against his belly. Retlok got the hint. He began to stroke Velas’ cock properly, running his hand down to the base of the shaft then back up over the ridges to the head to gather more warm, wet precum that was starting to gather there. Velas rumbled his pleasure, low vibrations humming through Retlok’s chest. Encouraged, Retlok played about and discovered that the flesh just underneath each ridge was sensitive enough to leave Velas gasping and senselessly thrusting against his stomach. This was something they both needed - Velas the physical release, and himself the intimacy of helping his partner over the edge now his own needs were sated.

Retlok closed his eyes, listening to Velas’ deep breaths and guttural noises of pleasure as his cock throbbed. More precum dripped from his cock over Retlok’s hand and onto his torso. Velas’ thighs trembled against him as his hips moved in a desperate, insistent rhythm that was so similar to earlier. He matched his strokes to Velas’ tempo, which earned him another appreciative - if not begging - string of harsh words in an unfamiliar tongue. The pace was set as Velas’ snout bumped against his shoulder and neck, exhaling hot steam and smoke in great shuddering breaths. Lost to the moment, Retlok began to speak, urging Velas on much in the same way he urged Serith time and time again. He never paid much attention to what he said, too focused on ensuring his partner found release from the throes of agonising delight. 

Serith was a vocal man, crying out over or under him as his release approached. Velas, as it turned out, was the opposite. As his release approached he grew quiet aside from a series of carnal grunts and reptilian hisses, but he writhed against Retlok until the centaur had to wrap his free arm around Velas’ waist just to keep him steady. Even then his tail thrashed against Retlok’s forelegs hard enough to sting. His draconic head reared up only to butt against his collarbone insistently. Retlok steadied Velas as much as possible, coaxing and urging him towards the edge as his hips ground into the slick pool of precum and sweat that had formed on Retlok’s belly. The heat and friction was intense.

Then Velas froze in his grip. His head hung so close to Retlok’s right cheek that he could see an orange-red light build at the back of Velas’ throat, casting his forked tongue and sharp fangs into dramatic backlit shadow. As the light grew and his thrusting reached a frenzied peak, Velas let out a rumbling his that sounded like a storm-fed wave crashing against a cliff. Retlok had to squint against the heat that followed the light out of Velas’ throat, and then thin tongues of flame danced between his teeth as he climaxed. Retlok had to close his eyes against the nearness of the gusting heat and pray his hair didn’t get burnt. His cheek began smarting as he felt the dragonkin’s release splatter over his abdomen and up to his chest, joining the damp mess already gathered there. After a few final strong thrusts, Velas collapsed on top of him, a panting, overheated mess.

The two men were quiet for a while, waiting for their breathing to even out. Retlok stared up at the tree canopy overhead, trying to ignore the returning ache of arousal that thumped low in his belly. The rut was insistent. He removed his hand from Velas’ spent cock, and discreetly wiped the mess off on the forest floor. Velas’ head rested on his chest, his eyes closed. Dark curls of smoke wisped out of his nostrils, and the cloying smell caught in the back of Retlok’s throat. Retlok kept his other arm draped over Velas’ waist, feeling how the scales shifted with each slowing breath.

“So… That was nice.”

Velas kept his eyes shut. “Mm. You enjoy?”

“How couldn’t I? You were thorough.” Retlok didn’t help his building arousal as he recalled Velas’ slick tongue on his cock, a new sensation and one he ached to feel again. He could feel his cheeks warm up, and he couldn’t tell if it was from the heat Velas radiated or his own thoughts.

Velas opened one eye, pupil narrowing to a catlike slit as he focused on Retlok’s face. He gave a low chuckle. “Do my best. Queen’s Emissary. Equipped to _interact_ with others.” Drained as he was, he sat up with a suggestive flick of his tail that was lost on Retlok; he was too busy watching how his softening cock retreated completely into his genital slit in open fascination. There wasn’t even a sheath to provide the suggestion of an undropped cock, or any visible balls. Just a closing flap that looked fleshier and wetter than the more obvious sphincter below it. He couldn’t quite fathom how it could all be tucked away _inside_ like that.

“Can you control that?”

“If not, would have hard time pissing.”

Retlok cleared his throat, even as he reached up to touch the smooth patch of scales that had slid back into place over the slit. Velas squirmed. Even a light pressure against the thin scales and thinner skin was uncomfortable. He grunted and shifted his hips away. Retlok remembered his manners and drew his hand away immediately.

“Oh! Sorry, did that hurt?”

Velas shook his head, but he was all too aware of the growing aches in his nether regions, and how his thighs ached from being spread apart for so long. And the _mess_. He flopped to one side with a tired groan, taking the cloak with him. He lay on his back next to Retlok and winced as the aches shifted and began anew, reminding him that he’d taken most of a _centaur_ ’s cock. And the centaur hadn’t been a small one.

“How do you feel?” He asked. His turn to ask questions now. A glance told him that Retlok’s torso was a damp mess, and further down his equine underbelly was starting to approach a similar state from displaced oil and… Certain other fluids. He stared at the centaur’s steadily growing arousal as if it had read his mind and was preparing to remind him of exactly how it had felt inside him. His sphincter clenched, and he honestly didn’t know if it was due to fear or longing.

“Uh, ignore that for now. I feel great.” Retlok stretched his legs out, massive hooves pedalling against the air. “Thanks for helping me with this, Vel.”

“No worries. Was fun.”

“I haven’t scared you off, then?” 

Velas looked up at Retlok’s face, studying it. His expression was… Hopeful. Nervous. He was expecting a yes?

“No. Happy to help you through rut every time you ask.”

“Which might be very often.”

Velas shrugged. Retlok had told him it would last a week. He could probably manage that, as long as there were breaks. Now he knew what to expect, he couldn’t deny that he was curious about the possibilities. “Fine.” He rolled onto his side to better study his friend. “Curious about, ah, _other_ ways to ease your urges.”

“Such as?”

“Mm, positions to try. Limits of flexibility.” He flicked his tongue out for emphasis. Retlok stared at it with widening eyes. Velas had a good idea of what he was thinking about now.

“Good. I have some ideas too. And now’s as good a time as any to try them out.”

Velas’ eyes glittered in amusement. “And I would be happy to oblige, Retlok.”

**Author's Note:**

> Lemme know if people want a part 2 to this, I have a few ideas.


End file.
